


love is nonsensical

by morganelisabeth



Category: GOT7, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Crack Crossover, Eventual Fluff, Grumpy Yoongi, I Don't Even Know, M/M, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-03 08:38:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5284082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganelisabeth/pseuds/morganelisabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>yoongi is basically a grumpy kid who believes that love is kind of stupid and that he will never finish his newest rap piece; youngjae is too happy and too optimistic. they are both in for a whole new world when two polar opposites connect.</p><p>this is such a crackship that i don't even know what i'm doing with my life, but here i am. please forgive me.<br/>inspired by another fic on here with yoonjae, i decided i could hardly wait for updates and decided to write my own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. FOREWORD

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChelseaJay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChelseaJay/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Of Birthday Parties, Orange Juice, and Star-Gazing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5218373) by [bobbysmixtape](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobbysmixtape/pseuds/bobbysmixtape). 



**FOREWORD:**

 

_**Love was nonsensical.** _

> His mother and father called it quits when Yoongi was in his freshman year of high school, and like the weighted rock of a teenager he had become, he swallowed it down dry. It should have left a sour taste in his mouth - the fact that it didn’t? That should have bothered him, too.
> 
> You see, misfortunes befell him many times in life and maybe some three or four years ago he could have pretended to be concerned with the hollow shell he’d become regarding most everything. He could have pretended, alright – but Yoongi was no actor. Instead, the incidents became fuel to a fire within him. And if there was a word to describe the suffocating admiration he had for lyrics and for words – though he seldom used them charitably – he had not come across it in any dictionary. He was a warrior with words, a musician wielding rhymes.
> 
> Rapping gave him the closest sense of humanity that he had felt in a handful of years. He became alive, built himself a mask and armor with stories. For someone who ghosted his way through life, he’d built a _bloodbath_ in the underground hip hop scene and collecting names was what he did best. It was with sweaty palms and labored breaths when he felt the most at ease with the world, for in those moments he didn’t need to face any kind of repercussions in regards to who he was.

 

**_Who was he, exactly?_ **

> _If you ask his mother_ , he’s her pride and joy though she feels she has failed him to a certain extent; _why does he not call home often on break?_ She raised him on her hip until he was old enough to distinguish the difference between ignorance and blissful unawareness. He was self-serving and in a sense, self-righteous. She put the weight of the failed marriage on her lackluster performance as a wife and mother while Yoongi tacked it to his father’s professional (and not too hidden) affair with his colleague.
> 
> _If you ask his father_ , he’s a thick headed child who never outgrew that pestering stage of rebellion or the _‘blame it on dad’_ phase. He had a few shining moments as a dad but for the most part, his role was covered by his wife – especially when his new assistant joined the firm. His father lacked any kind of pull on his son and how he acted and that realization pissed him off more than his actual failure at trying to parent should have. When he packed his things to leave after the papers were filed, Yoongi brought him an old sweater his father had given to him and neatly arranged it for him in his suitcase.
> 
> _If you ask his friends_ , he’s the “misunderstood” sweetheart of the group. He lost a bet to Namjoon the first semester of his first year of college and in return his hair was bleached to a near-white blonde. It was a stark contrast to his usual dark brown and thus, to his disliking, he became Suga. If he was honest, it kind of grew on him. With a face that just _SCREAMED_ sweetness – of course that’s a part of the joke, he hardly could be deemed approachable – his identity underground was concealed behind the ironic nameplate bestowed upon him.


	2. part one: that moment when your best friend has a not-quite-boyfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is how the concept of his misunderstood sweetness came about. It seemed he did have a soft spot for the six best friends he’d gotten involved with in the past few years. They were unlike the many people he’d grown up with. The biggest difference being that they – mostly – left him alone. They understood his moods and could read him like the weathered book he was, determining what he needed and when they should leave him be.
> 
> He’d deny it if it was brought up, but he guessed he cared for them, too, quite a bit. This was the very reason that he was letting Namjoon off easy, the reason that he was rooming with three of the six brats he’d decided to call friends. In reality, they fought more like a family.

Term papers were due in _two_ weeks but the content in his cluttered Cloud Drive had nothing to do with psychoanalysis. In fact, passing glances to his open documents could probably warrant his need for one.

File after file of music started yet unfinished.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t focused on schoolwork – because he was – but he had this nagging thought digging into him for months now. It was an idea for a piece and he’d be damned if he’d settle for something that wasn’t every bit perfect. So, when he came to a crossroads in his writing, he’d scrap it.

His phone screen lit up again for the third time in maybe the last two hours. How much time had he spent like this – sprawled out, upside down, legs kicked over the back of the couch? Last time he’d checked the clock it read 1:24 P.M.

It was now 3:05 P.M.

Exhaling slowly, the light haired boy grabbed for his cell phone and pulled it close to his face so he could read the text messages he’d missed.

 

> ** 1:45 P.M **
> 
> **From:** Joonie
> 
> **Message:** don’t forget to load the dishwasher – jin will be pissed if the dishes aren’t done.

 

> ** 2:24 P.M **
> 
> **From:** okay mom
> 
> **Message:** I won’t be home until later tonight. Don’t forget the dishes. Leave the key in the usual place, please.

 

> ** 3:03 P.M **
> 
> **From:** Joonie
> 
> **Message:** dinner tonight with jackson. you’re buying because you’re so nice. comb your hair this time.

 

His tongue pressed hard into his cheek as he swiped at the keys, a few choice responses coming to mind about what exactly he could _“eat”_ and when he could eat it. Midway through, he exhausted himself and erased it, simply sending back:

 

> ** 3:07 P.M **
> 
> **To:** Joonie
> 
> **Message:** fuck off

 

He would get the deeper meaning behind his two words; Namjoon knew him better than he sometimes knew himself. Only sometimes, though, like now. If that tall piece of shit wanted dinner so bad, well, Yoongi was at least picking the place. This is how the concept of his misunderstood sweetness came about. It seemed he did have a soft spot for the six best friends he’d gotten involved with in the past few years. They were unlike the many people he’d grown up with. The biggest difference being that they – mostly – left him alone. They understood his moods and could read him like the weathered book he was, determining what he needed and when they should leave him be.

He’d deny it if it was brought up, but he guessed he cared for them, too, quite a bit. This was the very reason that he was letting Namjoon off easy, the reason that he was rooming with three of the six brats he’d decided to call friends. _In reality, they fought more like a family._

Swinging his legs over to where he could sit up, he made sure to shoot Namjoon another message about where he’d be oh so graciously paying for their meal before closing his laptop and heading for the shower.

#  _** Love was nonsensical. ** _

Namjoon was _also_ a nonsensical person, it seemed, because although he didn’t outright claim truth to this – Yoongi and the others could pretty much tell his association with Jackson extended far beyond Model UN. There’s only so much time you can argue as delegates of foreign nations before the time spent together is deemed extracurricular. So, in that logic, Namjoon _totally_ had eyes for Jackson. It was a bit weird, honestly. Yoongi had never been interested, per say, in anyone. Especially not enough to where he spent a majority of his precious free time with them. And while all of this was true, he still had eyes.

And those eyes could wander if they wanted – sometimes they did – but they hadn’t rested on any one person long enough for interest to be found.

He thought if he ever looked at someone the way Jackson looked at Namjoon, it was safe to assume he was out of his mind.

 

He was toweling off when he heard the padding of footsteps over the sound of his music. With one hand scrubbing a towel against his damp hair and the other grabbing for his cellphone, he turned the music down long enough to holler out a short ‘hey’ before beginning to get dressed.

Floppy blonde locks were tucked under a knitted beanie, a loose shirt and jeans tugged on haphazardly while the voices outside the door grew closer. He guessed Namjoon and Jimin had arrived home from the library already and would be getting ready for dinner later, too.

“Hey, did you get my text earlier?” His voice was rough, giving way to the obvious fact that he hadn’t been using it.

“Yeah- sounds good. You’re paying anyway, not like I can put up much of a fuss.”

Jimin was grinning, sprawled out on Namjoon’s bed as Yoongi entered. They exchanged a look of ‘this guy’ before Yoongi focused his attention on the lovebird. “Damn right you can’t. Why am I paying again? I thought you got paid like three days ago.”

“You thought right! But tonight is special. We’re finally –“

“—you’re finally going to ask him out!” Jimin interjected, throwing a hand up as if asking for a high-five. Namjoon’s head snapped to the youngest one in the household and he swatted at the extended hand.

“It’s not like that! Jackson and I are just friends—“

“Yeah, until tonight!”

Jimin’s hand was grabbed this time, Namjoon using his own to twist a burn against the other’s arm. Through the hissing, Jimin still managed to grin, obviously amused at the reaction he was getting.

“As I was saying,” he paused long enough to grab a pillow, planting it firmly on Jimin’s face with his free hand not holding the wrist, “tonight is special because we’re meeting his other friends.”

Yoongi’s eyes drifted from the phone where he was scrolling Twitter, back up to Namjoon who seemed to have finally found amusement with bothering Jimin. His other friends? He’s known about them for a while – mainly because Namjoon blabs about everything Jackson related – but he only knew names. If he saw them in passing he’d be clueless.

“All of them?” He sounded resolved, but inside he was less than calm. He wasn’t necessarily a fan of large gatherings. Especially when he didn’t know the people.

“Nah- only JB, Junior, and Youngjae could make it. Mark and BamBam and Yugyeom had plans to go see some foreign film for their class.” Namjoon was busying himself with his phone as he spoke, most likely texting Jackson about how much food they could put down, clearly missing the priceless look on Yoongi’s face. “Why? Is there a problem?”

That sounded like a challenge.

“Of course not.” He could play it cool. “Just wondering.” Smooth, Yoongi. “You know- needed to figure how much money to bring with me. Are you at least covering drinks later?”

“I’m not going out after dinner tonight.” Namjoon finally peered up long enough, glancing from Jimin to Yoongi. “Jackson and I have a—“

“A date!”

And the torture on Jimin continued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i originally posted this on asianfanfics before I got my email for ao3 so if you have seen it over there, don't be alarmed!
> 
> also, thank you to whoever has gotten even this far.  
> i am walking trash.  
> but i am walking trash who loves you~


	3. part two: quite dickish sometimes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By process of elimination, he knew now that the one with the red cheeks was Youngjae. Of course he didn’t mind that the other had left that detail out (more accurately, he hadn’t asked him) but the flustered look on the other’s face was simply too much fun for him to ruin it.
> 
> It was a dickish thing to do, but Yoongi was quite dickish sometimes.

It was decided that if Yoongi was paying for seven other people’s meals tonight, that Namjoon could _at least_ drive. He’d explained how Jackson was going to meet them at the barbecue joint and about how Namjoon had already offered Jackson a ride home after they went out. Apparently JB had some late night studying to do and needed to be home afterwards. In reality, he wished he could at least _LIE_ about that - the boys knew him to well to believe it though. You see, his grades weren't suffering in the slightest. In fact, he was one of the best in his classes overall. His GPA was spotless without much fluxuation and he'd never been teetering on a failing grade in his life. He just _never_ picked up a textbook. _That was a story for another time, though._

 

The car ride lasted _maybe_ twenty minutes – Yoongi’s feet hoisted up on the center console while Jimin fixed his hair in the front seat, stammering his way through a song Namjoon had playing. Tae and Hoseok were staying in for the night while Jungkook was already out with a study group from school. It was just going to be Namjoon, Jimin, Jackson, Youngjae, JB, Junior, and Yoongi himself there.

Yoongi’s phone was clutched in his left hand as he followed Namjoon and Jimin up the sidewalk, the smell of barbecue strong from even a block down. Friday nights downtown were busy, of course, so they’d parked further away from all the hustle and bustle. He kept his glances _just below_ eye level to those who passed him on the street and nodded his head slightly whenever Jimin asked him a question he couldn’t exactly hear – he guessed it was in relation to the sour look he was more than likely shooting out of habit.

Thankfully the restaurant was a small and not too well known family joint. It gave the big group enough of a quiet setting to make a get together a bit more relaxed or so he hoped at least. Taking a look around, Yoongi settled down a bit. The worry etched onto his features faded and Jimin noted the shift with a supportive arm draped around his older friend.It felt like home here - lacking the toxic failure of a father, of course. The decorations were very frequent but simple, pictures painted onto canvases and strung up around the room. The soft music was lulling him into a state of comfort with each passing note.

 

Meanwhile, on the outside, it seemed they had arrived first and Yoongi was the first to suggest an open area towards the _back_ , noting how there wasn’t a crowd that way. It was met without a fuss and the three of them took their seat and began to play the waiting game.

Namjoon was halfway through a funny story about this student in one of his classes when he abruptly cut it short, all to greet someone. Yoongi’s back was to the entrance from where they were sat, so he hadn’t noticed Jackson and company arrive. The three of them stood up, Yoongi running a hand up through his now dried hair to make sure he looked presentable for his friend’s not-quite boyfriend. Turning around to greet the newcomers, he was already half bowed by the time he heard Jackson’s voice give hint that they were close.

Lifting back up, he immediately locked eyes with an unfamiliar pair. It took him a moment to collect a coherent thought, but when he did, he noted that the other was smiling. Yoongi quickly returned a bit of a forced, friendly smile of his own before blurting out a, “ _nice to meet you_.”

“You too! I- are you Suga?”

“Yes.” His mere second response came out sounding a little too forceful. Yoongi clicked his tongue before offering a hand out properly. “Actually, it’s Yoongi. But Suga is fine.”

The smile the other had been sporting quickly became cloaked in a shade of embarrassment – but _why_?

“Sorry about that – Jackson didn’t exactly tell us much before he _dragged_ us along.”

He must have looked bothered, because the _embarrassment_ turned up another two notches; red cheeks accompanied the jagged smile.

“Not that I didn’t want to meet you – all of you – just that it was last minute. Actually, I’m pretty sure I have you in one of my classes.”

Through all of this, the two of them remained the only ones standing. It was brought to his attention when Jimin leaned across the table to tug on his coat tail, making a disgruntled noise to catch his attention. “Oh, right.” Yoongi’s eyes jerked back from Jimin to the other and he waved his hand towards the cushions as a respectful measure to invite him to sit first.

What luck was it that the only spot available for him was _directly_ across from Yoongi himself?

Taking his seat back, he glanced around the table to each person, stopping longer on Jackson just in time to see heat rise to his cheeks. Namjoon’s hand had clasped his wrist and he was excitedly recalling a debate they’d just won a few weeks ago. He supposed it was _sweet_ – in a way that he didn’t particularly understand.

**_Love was nonsensical after all._ **

Silently, he caught JB and Junior’s attention, discerning names by the one Jackson looked at when he’d ask a question or the one he’d nudge when referencing them in his stories. Namjoon and he did most of the talking while Jimin and JB had a side conversation with Junior.

By process of elimination, he knew now that the one with the red cheeks was Youngjae. Of course he didn’t mind that the other had left that detail out ( ~~ _more accurately, he hadn’t asked him_~~ ) but the flustered look on the other’s face was simply too much fun for him to ruin it.

It was a dickish thing to do, but Yoongi was quite dickish sometimes.

Ten or so minutes had passed and their food was cooking – Yoongi’s stomach actually rumbling now. He couldn’t remember the last thing he ate but it had been long enough ago to leave him starving. He had barely caught on to JB’s amusing story about how Jackson had hurt himself some way or another when out of the corner of his eye, he could see Youngjae staring right at him.

Suppressing a wicked grin at the fact he was probably eating himself up inside over their incomplete conversation, the light haired boy turned to him fully now.

Nothing.

“You need something?”

“—No! I didn’t mean to stare. I guess I blanked out for a minute. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t much care for people in general but sometimes they made him laugh. In situations like this, he should be nicer. It seemed he was the older of them but here he was – acting like a child. He knew the other was bothering himself over something, maybe their introduction, but he was intrigued in just how red the other’s face could get.

 

Dinner passed to satisfaction and the group of them all cleaned their plates, not one garnish gone untouched on the table. Yoongi was wiping the corner of his mouth off when Namjoon called on him, reviewing what he’d already told him at the house. He and Jackson were going to go visit some store before it closed so he’d need to busy himself for an hour or two until they were done and they’d meet up where they parked.

Jimin had resorted to choosing to take a bus home – he complained about homework he’d needed to get done for weeks and the fact that he hadn’t started was a matter of urgency.

As they gathered to head out, Yoongi fell behind Youngjae on the way out and was startled when they nearly collided on the pavement outside.

“Actually, I _did_ want to say something.” The other’s voice brought his eyes up to meet Youngjae’s again. After a second or two, there was that same smile back, little creases highlighting the other’s eyes. “I’m Youngjae. I forgot to tell you that earlier.”

Yoongi’s mouth pulled tight for a moment before he surprised himself by laughing, something airy and quiet – but a laugh nonetheless.

“I knew that.”

The game he’d been playing with the other’s red cheeks took a turn for the worse – he would have thought Youngjae was feverish if he didn’t know better. His cheeks lit up this time and he tried to hide it by ducking his head in a small bow. **_Victory._**

JB and Junior locked arms around Youngjae’s shoulders as they expressed their thanks for a great meal and Yoongi forced out a cheery nonchalant response before he tucked his hands into his pockets and wished JB luck with his studying. As Youngjae waited through his friends’ conversation, he was watching Yoongi through his lashes, the fire in his cheeks becoming unbearable. It was a blessing when they pulled him along to leave, telling Jackson they’d see him back at home as he, too, escaped with Namjoon.

Yoongi caught one last look at Youngjae before he turned away from him and something inside of him was tickled by it.

“See you in class, Youngjae.”

Brighter than ever, Yoongi was nearly blinded by the red stains on his cheeks.

Youngjae's collar was yanked up quickly after.

 

> **Yoongi** – 2
> 
> **Youngjae’s cheeks** –  0


	4. part three: it's elementary, really

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re the one watching me sleep.” His headphones were off now, concealed back inside his bag. The darker haired boy was dumbfounded at how casual this conversation was going, considering how awkward it probably sounded from the outside looking in.
> 
> Youngjae’s mouth was stretched tight.
> 
> Foiled.

##  **Picture it, five days after dinner.**

A snug pair of headphones sat like a crown over Yoongi’s head. There was a steady stream of music flowing into his ears but his eyes were closed and his left hand knuckles were dug into his cheek – fisted hand supporting a heavy head full of dreams he wouldn’t quite remember when he woke up. A casual trip to the campus coffee and book store had resulted in his ultimate demise considering he hadn’t exactly planned on falling asleep propped up against the iced over corner window.

His unused hand was curled protectively around his messenger bag that housed his laptop and study material, or a lack thereof on the latter. Even in a deepening slumber, the unfinished piece on his computer was bothering him. It was so bad that Jin, a few nights ago, had nudged him out of a light nap he’d been having on the couch to ask if he was okay.

_Apparently_ he’d been mumbling lyrics in his sleep.

Such is the case now – sat drowsy in the warmth that the coffee shop offered. His voice was drowned out by the semi-seasonal music playing overhead but a few fellow students had noticed his subconsciously moving lips and snapped a video to show their friends. An oblivious and exhausted rapper slept on, despite the mild stir he was causing. Too busy snoozing to notice a familiar smile enter the building, in walks Youngjae. 

Since the dinner where he’d met the darker haired boy, the rapper had noticed him around campus several times but he’d always been surrounded by too many others to notice Yoongi, too. Or so he thought, that is. It seemed to fit him, though. The younger oozed with social ability – he’d caught him talking several times to people that Yoongi himself couldn’t stand as far has he could throw them. What Yoongi seemed to lack, Youngjae had in excess. 

He didn’t know if that was admirable just yet or if it was _annoying as hell_.

Youngjae greeted the barista like a longtime friend and ordered his usual, swiping his campus card for payment before she even told him the total. This was like second nature to him by now. Tucking his wallet back into his coat pocket, Youngjae shrugged off the bag he'd brought for classes and was about to take a seat near the counter because – _usually_ – he would take his coffee and go. He barely had the patience to sit still on any given day.

Today, though, was different. Dark eyes landed on a familiar head of hair and a familiar coat, his mind immediately pulling up that lingering look Suga – no, Yoongi – had given him when they parted after dinner. He thought about the fact that, ever since they formally met, he’d seemed to run into the other everywhere outside of class. And so, with a disdain for his poor cheek’s health, he made his way over to the other and was shocked to find him out cold. 

For a moment, he _debated_ waking him up. That idea, however, was shoved away, considering he barely knew this guy and waking him up from a probably great dream just seemed the quickest way to get on his bad side. Rubbing his bare hands together, he was about to go back to his first choice of seating when the blonde boy’s voice caught his attention. He was mumbling something that sounded like a song which made sense considering the headphones he spotted.

The strange thing though, was that he could have sworn he’d said –

_ “Youngjae!” _

The woman’s voice announcing his order about made him jump free of his own skin. His eyes jerked away from the sleeping student to the counter and he quickly gathered his wits.

But of course, as luck would have it, the woman’s voice was loud enough that it seemed she’d woken up Yoongi in the process of scaring Youngjae. When Youngjae shot the blonde boy one last look, those intimidating eyes (sufficiently less intimidating now since they were hazy with sleep) were back on his.

They stared at each other for what felt like a thousand years before Yoongi’s mouth parted, tongue flicking out to wet his chapped lips before a groggy voice could confirm who his dream drunken mind was seeing. “You seem to have a habit of staring at me, you know.” His cheek was red and awfully sore when he pulled his hand away, but he was still too out of it to complain.

Youngjae _would_ have audibly gasped if he had any control of his body. He did not, however, which is why he stood there – arms almost crossed like a defiant child – mouth nearly agape in complete shock at what his ears had just heard. _Was he serious?_ “I wasn’t – I don’t stare at people. You’re the one sleeping in a coffee shop.” This information didn’t matter at all, but he had to be tactical. If he was defensive, maybe he wouldn’t turn the color of a cherry tomato.

“You’re the one watching me sleep.” His headphones were off now, concealed back inside his bag. The darker haired boy was dumbfounded at how casual this conversation was going, considering how awkward it probably sounded from the outside looking in.

Youngjae’s mouth was stretched tight.

_ Foiled. _

About to put up another defense mechanism, he remembered his saving grace and shook his head in a matter of fact way. “Actually,” the corner of his mouth twitched upwards and Yoongi noted how it had done that back at the barbecue place, too. “I was just ordering coffee. I came over to tell you thank you for the other night but you were-“

“Sleeping. And you _watched_ me sleep.”

This was a lose-lose battle. Youngjae accepted defeat. _Again._ Cursing himself for trying, he shoved his hands into his coat pockets and turned on his heels, not-quite storming to the counter to retrieve his drink. Quickly apologizing to the woman who he made wait, he took his drink and grabbed a napkin, taking a cautious sip on his way to the door.

Yoongi watched in sleepy amusement but amusement nonetheless. This guy seemed to be too uppity for his own good. Just before he, too, got up to leave, he managed to catch a glimpse of Youngjae’s profile while he shouldered the door open, and he cracked a tiny smile when that familiar rose color gave him away. What a world he lived in, really.

 

> For Yoongi, the game was just getting started.
> 
> For Youngjae, he was already tired of playing.

 

That was what he told himself, at least, and _almost_ every one of his close friends when he got back to the shared apartment that evening. He’d tell anyone that would listen, really, just how snooty this guy was. Of course, snooty was furthest from the truth – but what information did he have to go off of?

“ _I knew that_ ,” Youngjae’s voice lowered an octave, face contorting to something smug, mimicking Yoongi under his breath as he settled onto the household’s couch, book tucked under his arm to pry open in a couple of minutes. “Who even says that?” After a pause, he clicked his tongue and pulled his drink to his lips, taking a comfortable sip now that it had cooled down.

Mark happened to be passing by at that moment, interested in what Youngjae had ordered and why on earth he hadn’t brought him any. “Where’s my coffee?” His eager hand was reaching to take away Youngjae’s recent prize before the dark haired boy shouldered it away, grunting his disdain. He did _not_ share his coffee.

“Back at the campus coffee house, that’s where. You should have texted me if you wanted one.” His voice held a certain bite that would make anyone new to Youngjae question it, but Mark simply laughed, yanking a strand of Youngjae’s scarf as revenge for getting denied a sip. Used to the teasing, Youngjae cracked a grin and pulled his book out to the bookmarked page, the flat of his palm anchoring it open against his thigh.

“Someone get your order wrong or did you just get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?” Mark’s voice was almost sing-song as he wandered over into the open kitchen, snooping around the cabinets, grabbing a can of cocoa mix for himself. Tis the season for hot chocolate already although Thanksgiving hadn’t even passed. “You seem cranky today.”

A long, exasperated sigh that had been brewing since he spoke to Yoongi – no, _Suga_ , he decided he’d think of him as Suga just to spite – left him as the opportunity to rant surfaced. He hadn’t told Mark about the dinner a few nights ago or the colorful personality he’d met there, but now he took the time to.

Mark’s cocoa was half cooled by the time Youngjae caught him up to where he’d come home from meeting him again earlier. “I can’t tell if he’s sick or upset or if he is just permanently in a fighting mood. _Honestly_ , it must be so frustrating.”

Mark’s mouth twisted up into a small smile and he shrugged, taking his seat beside Youngjae with a mug of cocoa warming his palms. “You think you’re any better?” His tone was challenging but his face was gentle. “It’s hard to stand you sometimes, too.” About to fight him on that, Youngjae flipped his book closed. Mark elbowed the darker haired boy, shushing him, throwing an arm around his shoulder before leaning his head against the soft fabric of his friend’s seasonal sweater.

“You’re too happy all the time. It’s time you met someone who will put you in your place.”

He made that sound as if he and Yoongi – fuck, **_Suga_** – were seeing each other on purpose. Youngjae didn’t know if that made him mad or disappointed in Mark. _How dare he, really._ Huffing out his displeasure at the previous statement, Youngjae decided to take a drink of his coffee before digging his hole even further. “Being happy is good. Being mean is bad. Didn’t your mom teach you that? It’s elementary, dear Watson.”

And just like that, Mark regretted making Youngjae watch Sherlock with him last summer.


	5. part four: i told you so

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The side he had climbed up lead to both double doors being closed and he thought nothing of it (literally almost everyone had exited by the time he was trying to leave, okay) when he 80s crime drama kicked them open, his foot doing most of the work as his hands were tucked warmly into his denim jeans’ pockets. To his misfortune, though, there was somebody on the other side of the doors.
> 
> And that person was none other than Yoongi - no, Suga.

The last class of the morning was cut short with the professor’s rushed apology that they had somewhere to be urgently. Youngjae had overheard him on the phone with someone – most likely his wife – and he sounded as if he was _begging_ her for some reason or another. Marital problems? He wasn’t trying to butt in, of course, but when someone is practically screaming _‘baby, please don’t mess with my motorbike – I promise it wasn’t what it looked like’_ it becomes complicated to pretend that you didn’t hear.

Arms are thrown up, legs kicking out as the last in his row bypassed him to exit the room. A yawn escapes him, one that he doesn’t even try and disguise to look pretty. He was thoroughly exhausted.

Mark and the others had kept him up all night playing some kind of new game – Yugyeom wanted his input on a new dance routine he’d been practicing for his class – Jaebum was turning the house upside down looking for his phone – he hardly remembered the reason behind Jackson’s fuss but he was _99%_ positive it had to do with something Namjoon had texted him.

Needless to say, he hadn’t gotten much sleep.

Unlike Yoongi who only roomed with three others of the seven member friend group, Youngjae lived with all of them in a less than roomy suite downtown. The commute to campus wasn’t very long by foot but he most always took a campus shuttle when he was on his way home.

Sleep softened eyes danced around the nearly empty lecture hall, in absolutely _no_ rush to get out or be anywhere but his own bed. The dark haired boy hadn’t noticed Yoongi come in – this was the class they shared – but he wondered if maybe, out of the ordinary, he had beaten him to class today.

There was a lack of white-blonde hair remaining in the room and something felt heavy inside of him. Was that… ~~disappointment~~? Holy hell, _no_. This was not happening. He was just tired, that’s it. He needed a nice, long nap to recover his senses.

With an inner dialogue raging inside of him about how he sure as hell was not disappointed in not crossing paths with the grumpiest care bear alive, Youngjae slipped out of his seat and jogged his way up the steps towards the exit, needing to get some of that biting winter air into his system to wake him up.

The side he had climbed up lead to both double doors being closed and he thought nothing of it (literally almost everyone had exited by the time he was trying to leave, okay) when he 80s crime drama kicked them open, his foot doing most of the work as his hands were tucked warmly into his denim jeans’ pockets. To his misfortune, though, there was somebody on the other side of the doors.

And that person was none other than Yoongi - no, _Suga_.

Startled at the loud holler that seemed to come out of nowhere, Youngjae recoiled a bit, eyes jerking around and then down, only to find a knitted beanie _sans_ _a body to adorn_ and then a mess of limbs, that white-blonde hair immediately making his cheeks catch fire. _Oh no, oh god no_. This was not happening to him of all people.

Open mouthed, he was frozen solid as the other’s right arm wound up around his back, rubbing angrily where the door handles had jabbed into his back. So many things came to Youngjae’s mind as to what he should do and say in this situation, ideally, but the only thing that left his mouth was a:

“I didn’t see you there!” This was followed quickly by a, “do you need help?” It sounded ridiculously pathetic out loud, not nearly as confident as he wished, but at least he –

“You didn’t _see_ me there?” The not-quite-question came out in a hysterical laugh, a new kind of angry that Youngjae had not yet witnessed. Truth be told, he wished he never would again. From that moment, Yoongi let him have it, hissing and groaning out his frustrated remarks that never were finished before the next one arrived. “Of course you didn’t see me there are you a fucking – do you _ever_ look where the fuck – why would you even kick the – _oh my god_ , I’m – and you can’t even help me up!”

That last part was furthest from what he wanted, he swore to himself. 

It was just due to the heat of the moment.

Yoongi had managed to get one leg up enough in the time he was hollering out, using his thigh and knee as support to push his other leg up. “I can’t even believe this is happening right now, I’m so close to—“ His right hand stayed pressed against his back, sure that he’d have a giant bruise in the morning, while his left hand raised up instinctively to rub at the side of his face he’d caught his fall with.

In the midst of the chaos and the frustrated mumbling, Youngjae hadn’t said another word, but when he saw the other’s arm move, he caught him by the elbow and stepped closer, so he could be in front of him now. Color Youngjae fucking _lucky_ that his usual first reaction to swing at someone who grabbed him like that had been hindered by his face plant from seconds ago. His senses were in a tizzy by this point, anger and pain and of all things, amusement, though he wasn’t sure at what exactly, buzzed bone deep within him.

“Should I take you to the hospital?”

The light haired rapper was physically taken aback at the other’s sudden voice, stronger than he’d heard it before, offering to have him checked on. He was equal parts quiet in awe and quiet in disbelief. Who did he think he was, anyways?

“I’m _fine_ ,” the words were bitten off, Yoongi trying his hardest to act as venomous and bitter as he could. If he could just get him to go away –

“You were hit pretty hard and I don’t want to leave you alone if you have a concussion or something,” he paused for a moment, eyes falling to the gentle but assuring hold he had on the other’s arm still. His already tinted cheeks burned as he tried to stammer through his explanation, getting cut short by the other right away.

“ _YOU_ hit me pretty hard. Remember that? I don’t have a concussion either, so if you could just — _thanks_.” He wriggled his arm away from the other, catching Youngjae off guard when he stepped away, squatting down to grab for his beanie.

Realizing that this was going to have to be handled the hard way, the darker haired boy shot his foot out, trapping the knitted cap between his shoe and the tile floor. “You wouldn’t know if you had a concussion.” It was blurted out, and again, was beside the point.

“What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?” Yoongi’s eyes jerked up to the other as if demanding an answer. Confused at what he saw, he stared at Youngjae, who for the first time since their proper meeting, seemed to radiate a sense of superiority. _Oh, fuck no._ He was not playing this game. Not today. “Move your foot.”

Youngjae, instead, bent down to grab the beanie himself.

The rapper took this chance to strike, seizing Youngjae’s arm and tugging, making the younger boy tumble to his ass, now on the same level as Yoongi again as far as height was concerned. Letting out a sound of discomfort, Youngjae was about to retaliate when he noticed Yoongi already shaking his beanie out – as if he had contaminated it or gotten it dirty – huffing out a stream of curses that questioned why he was even in this situation right now.

Youngjae climbed to his feet a bit too fast, catching up to the other in no time. They walked side by side for a small distance before Yoongi even paused enough to notice, his eyes nearly popping from his skull in complete and utter disbelief.

_ Who was this guy? _

He knew who he was, but honestly? All that oozing charisma and happy-go-lucky charm he reeked of was pissing him off as of two minutes ago. It was decided that he was, indeed, _annoying as hell_. It was also decided that he was two seconds away from knocking the other out. He had never actually fought in his life, but don’t remind him. With his level of done being this high today, he felt like he could take on a champion fighter and win with a KO within the first two minutes.

Pushing his tongue hard against the back of his teeth, the rapper jolted to a stop and turned to face the other. If it had been anyone else, they might have backed off – left – reacted like a normal person who was afraid of getting knocked off their feet. Youngjae just paused with him, brows lifting in a sort of curious manner that just made Yoongi’s blood boil.

“I said I’m fine.”

Without hesitation, Youngjae nodded his head in acknowledgement before flicking his head towards the exit in front of them that would lead to the campus grounds. “And I said you wouldn’t _know_ if you were fine or not. Humor me, once, will you? At least go to the nurse and make sure you’re—“

“Unbelievable.” Yoongi rolled his eyes so hard that he could have sworn he’d given himself a headache and pushed the other away with the palm of his hand, storming off towards the doors. “Why would I humor you when you’re the one who is bothering me?”

“Because I’m sorry.”

His immediate train of thought encouraged him to retort with something like, _‘you better be sorry’_ but he found some ounce of restraint and gripped his coat lapels as they were his sanity and he was having a hard time holding onto it. For a second, they both stood there like that. Yoongi’s back to Youngjae and Youngjae’s eyes on the other, trying to calculate what he was going to do.

“You’re sorry?” The tone in his voice had softened immeasurably and Youngjae’s nose scrunched up, curious but cautious as he always seemed to be around the other. “Sorry for kicking me down like the reckless fucking — you’re _sorry_?” The word was exaggerated this time, his voice still soft. Truth be told, he’d rather hear him yell again.

This, whatever this was, was twice as scary.

After deliberation, Youngjae resorted to staying quiet and nodding his head a bit enthusiastically to confirm the other’s words. Yoongi’s fingers released his hold on his coat and instead pushed up against his forehead, the pads of his pointer finger and thumb rubbing against his skull slowly.

Slinging his bag up higher on his shoulder, the light haired rapper puffed out his cheeks. If he didn’t say what he was about to say, his life would be so much better. He could go home and work on his piece and not be bothered any longer with this… _whatever this was_ … until Monday.

Alas, his mouth had a mind of its own.

“What time does her office close?”

Now was not the time for a victory in their little game, but Yoongi counted the rose colored stain on the other’s face as a miniscule step forward into his day becoming better. Before he had time to change his mind, he was being pushed along to the nurse’s office for a check-up he really didn’t need – even if Youngjae fought him on it.

 

Fifteen minutes later and they trudged into the office, leaving their light snow-dusted shoes at the door. It didn’t take Youngjae long to get the nurse’s attention, seeing as she wasn’t seeing anyone ( _Yoongi wanted to tell him he was not about to be the reason she became busy, yet here they were_ ) and he was escorted to the examination room.

The crinkled paper under his ass was about to be added to the list of reasons he needed to get the hell out of dodge – he absolutely hated the sound it made and he would absolutely blame it on the annoying sound of crinkle paper and not his fear of hospitals in general.

His feet were locked at the ankles, hands curled in his lap.

Youngjae was sitting near the door, phone out, though his eyes were on Yoongi way more often than he was aware of. The rapper was not paying attention, though, and was semi-startled when a short, petite woman all but skipped in to meet them. She had left to collect her clipboard from her desk and this was the first time Yoongi was seeing her face to face.

She looked like another Youngjae type – someone who could vomit rainbows. He guessed she needed to be a happy person to deal with others who were sick all day, but, he could only handle one of those in his immediate vicinity without going insane. “What exactly happened, again?” 

Strange, seeing as Yoongi hadn’t told her what the problem was. He glanced towards Youngjae, whose eyes were _conveniently_ now glued to his phone screen even though his face was still ablaze. The blonde haired boy grumbled before looking back to the nurse, moving to remove his coat as he explained that he had _clumsily_ fallen back into the doors in the lecture hall. 

There was a tiny noise from the other side of the room, akin to a squeak, and Yoongi concealed the tiniest beginning of a smile before he let the other off the hook that easy.

“It looks like the worst of it got your back, Min Yoongi. I suspect there’s no serious damage. Just soreness, _maybe_ light bruising,” her fingers felt around his sides, the latex gloves freezing, causing him to shiver. “As long as you can manage that, you should be fine. If you have any heating pads or even Aleve, you should be just fine.” The nurse tugged his shirt down with the rapper’s help, grabbing a small flashlight to test his pupils for any signs of a concussion.

Meanwhile, Youngjae’s eyes had roamed from his phone screen to the likes of Yoongi, whose tummy was exposed to him for too long. If he’d thought the other’s teasing and yelling could cause his cheeks to light up, he was in a whole new war with his reactions by seeing his bare skin. The fact he even cared – this was starting to really bother him.

Getting the all clear gave Yoongi some kind of complex because his face contorted into that smug number he wore after dinner that one night – Youngjae seemed to forget the flustering stain on his cheeks as soon as the rapper shot him a look that just screamed _‘I told you so.’_ Signing the chart for patient visits, Yoongi thanked the woman for her time and brushed past Youngjae as he came out of the room, causing the other to roll his eyes.

Once outside, the two stood at the shuttle stop in familiar silence, each catching the other watching them but not being quick enough to really catch them, winding up playing a game of lost opportunity to nag on Yoongi’s part. The sound of the shuttle stirred the pair of them to life, Youngjae straightening up while the rapper continued slouching, favoring one leg over the other with a less than impressed expression (his usual, really) plastered like natural on his face.

The shuttle only sat a few people and the open seats left happened to be side by side. Oh, sweet misery. Yoongi entered first this time, picking the seat on the left because he could watch the shops fly by and pay absolutely NO attention to the other for the rest of the time they had to spend together.

Once they pulled away from the campus, Yoongi pressed his forehead against the cold window, Youngjae pressing the side of his face against the opposite one as well. It went like that until the darker haired boy was dropped off at his stop, the silence between the two growing more tiresome than blissful. At least he had the weekend to forget.

As he stepped down the first stair, Yoongi’s eyes shifted to catch Youngjae’s and the rapper was thankful the top of the seat before him hid from his nose down. A smile wormed its way onto his face without him knowing as their eye contact _nearly_ caused Youngjae to miss his second step off the vehicle.

Watching the other collect himself through the foggy, ice stained window, Yoongi thought that, _just maybe_ , he wasn’t so bad after all. 

Annoying and pushy as hell, definitely, but not entirely awful.

Youngjae was only thinking he needed a drink _~~and that he needed to stop thinking about Yoongi and his bare skin at all costs~~_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so, my phone was playing bedroom (yeah, like let's get it on) music the whole time i was writing this.  
> forgive me, jesus. my phone needs to chill. it is not smut time. not /yet/ at least.
> 
> also damn, yoongi is so grumpy.


	6. part five: the moment was ruined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snapping out of it, he swiped his tongue over his mouth and stood up straight, crossing his arms over his chest, in turn, making his notebook fall from his coat.
> 
> Youngjae’s attention dropped to the fallen pad of paper and Yoongi’s quickly followed. Oh, no. Reaching down, the rapper scrambled to grab it up, closing the notebook again. Tucking it under his arm this time, he swallowed hard.
> 
> Was it hot in here?

“If you don’t quit that _screeching_ , I will strangle the life from you.” Yoongi’s brows were knitted so tight in both parts aggravation and concentration. Taehyung was perched on the arm rest in front of him, one earbud in while the other was being lassoed in circles, a mindless habit the younger had.

“What, you don’t like my voice?” The pout the other was sporting was nothing more than a farce, the blonde haired boy ignoring it completely.

Apparently it was _piss off Yoongi_ day, because no matter how hard he scribbled down lyrics, pencil to the paper like fire on dry grass, the others were relentless in bothering him for one reason to the next. It had started with Jungkook needing his opinion on a choreographed dance he was working on for a local competition. Then, not even twenty minutes later, Namjoon was bombarding him with questions about his attitude towards Youngjae – apparently the other had been drinking and started blabbing about how he had a potty mouth, which he wasn’t going to deny – clearly wanting the blonde to treat him nicer. It was like he didn’t know him at all.

Now, after having an hour and a half to be in peace, along came Taehyung and his mischief-on-the-brain companion, Hoseok.

“I like your voice when you shut up.” The rapper retorted, pausing his writing, tapping the eraser against the paper as if trying to bring a thought to life.

Taehyung only smirked at his words, his feet swinging to toe at the notebook Yoongi was putting to good use. “When I shut up, I have no voice, therefore that makes _no_ sense.” His tone of voice itself just made the rapper want to knock him out, too, but he kept quiet, the crease in his brow becoming more prominent.

This was his thinking face.

Like clockwork, Hoseok seemed to feel the annoyance rising up, because he took his cue and plopped right smack dab on the bruised portion of his lower back, squishing the blonde boy into the couch as he yelped in pain. As if the dark haired idiot had no sense, he gave a wiggle, causing Yoongi to swing an arm back, jabbing Hoseok right in the gut with as much force as he could muster. 

“Get off of me you fucking— what the _hell_ has gotten into you two?”

The mother of the house, Jin, was carrying a few stray articles of clothing by, hardly paying attention until he heard Yoongi swear. Like second nature, he sighed and pointed a finger at the group of troublemakers. “Play nice.”

A growl was growing in the back of his throat by now, his skin tingling with the need to hit someone or something with excessive force. Their little wrestling matches usually got to this point the longer they continued but it was never taken beyond play, period.

The others knew him better than to take it personally, of course, so an amused Taehyung merely cackled as Hoseok rolled onto the floor, clutching his stomach. “What was that for? Aish, I think you _ruptured_ something.”

_Good riddance_ , Yoongi thought.

The rapper raised up from his tummy as he had been laying before, kicking the closest foot out at the squirmy pest groaning on the floor. Nicking Hoseok in the thigh this time, Yoongi’s face finally broke and a grin was taking over.

“That’s for you being stupid,” he explained, “you have to learn to leave me alone some day.”

There was a flurry of incomprehensible noises that Hoseok let out as he stood up, turning his attention to Taehyung to shove him off the armrest this time. There was a brief squawking noise when the other fell but it was quickly followed by more off-key singing.

Discouraged from writing any longer, Yoongi flipped his notebook closed and hugged it against his chest, throwing his head back against the couch cushion.

“You having trouble finishing that?” A now curious Hoseok eyed the notebook before reaching a hand out palm up. “Let me check it out. I could help you.”

If he had the energy to laugh, Yoongi would be busting lungs.

“Yeah, sure, how about _never_.”

“That’s the worst comeback I’ve ever heard.”

“You write the worst lyrics I’ve ever heard.”

“You’ve never even read my work!”

“That’s because I don’t _want_ to!”

The two bickered like children, unaware of Jin shooting them a look as he passed back through the living room. Holding each other’s gaze for a moment, Yoongi noticed the small flick of Hoseok’s eyes away from his own, down towards his notebook, and he narrowly jerked away as the other flung himself at him, making a leap off the couch and on towards the kitchen where he planned to keep a distance between him and his pursuer with the island.

Jin, however, was preparing food. He did not find it humorous when the rapper came pin balling into his space, basically cowering behind him with the damn notebook clutched by a single arm. “Excuse you, Yoongi, I am not going to be a part of – don’t hide here.” Successfully being ignored, Jin decided to grab his mixing bowl and back away. The trick was futile though, as Yoongi merely walked with him, peeking his head around his shoulder to check for Hoseok in case he decided to chase him down.

Soon enough, the kitchen door busted open, slamming into the cabinets behind it. Jin’s scowl intensified and he perched a hand on his hip, his lecture face on, about to deliver the most intense nagging. Just as he opened his mouth, Hoseok took off towards the man behind him and Jin was less than politely shoved to the side, saving the contents of tonight’s supper by sheer luck.

“Just let me see it, Suga. You don’t even know – hell, I could have the best advice.” He pushed off the corner cabinet and took the turn around the island like a champ, Yoongi already racing off back towards the living room. When the two had exited the kitchen, Jin swore under his breath and started on food for the third time.

Hoseok eventually cornered the blonde; it was a matter of time, of course. Yoongi could run when he wanted to but he wasn’t much of a match for the likes of Hoseok or Jungkook – they were on the track and field team growing up, he’d learned.

Palm up, Hoseok reached out again.

Yoongi thought about kneeing him in the groin but even he wasn’t that cruel. After a moment, he looked down to his notebook and back up, evaluating his next course of action. He was just a tad shorter than the other – the chances of escaping were higher but of actually getting away? He didn’t know if he could risk it.

Swallowing hard, he tightened his grip on the notebook and began holding it out as if he was giving it up. Closer, closer, closer. His eyes locked on Hoseok’s face as the other began to grin, thinking he’d won.

That, there, was his mistake.

Just before a corner of the book touched his fingertips, Yoongi shoved forwards and slapped the notebook across Hoseok’s cheek, using that diversion to make a run for the door. Barely taking the time to collect his shoes and a too-thin coat from the hook, the rapper was out the door before he even heard Hoseok’s feet hit the hallway hardwood flooring, signaling he was close. Well, that was _too close_ for his own liking.

 

Within the most recent pages of his notebook lay the biggest mystery that Yoongi had ever come across. Somehow, someway, for whatever reason, Youngjae’s name had slipped onto not one – but three different pages of attempts at his newest piece.

Everything was still dawning on him – the realization that he was the only one who had access to his notebook at any time. Even when he left it at home, it was hidden between his mattress and the headboard. The other members didn’t take an active interest in his work – at least the ones who lived there – so he didn’t suspect anyone of toying with it.

Even more condemning on his own part – _it was in his own handwriting_.

But unlike the other unfinished scribbles, the pages that featured Youngjae’s name were not focused on the overwhelming feelings that Yoongi suffered through most of the time – they were not focused on living in hell or trying to survive, not even wall to wall cluttered with swearing and obscene, graphic illustrations. Unlike the others, the ones that featured Youngjae were insightful and soft. They did not focus on the drowning feeling that came with school and living – but instead the moments of clarity and the feeling of inner growth.

They weren’t rainbows and butterflies by any means, of course, but they were the light in the midst of his dark and wild mess of unfinished brain storming sessions.

But just thinking about the problem at hand made his skin crawl.

He obviously had been half asleep, unaware of what he was doing. It was why he couldn’t even remember writing the guy’s name down. Even though, honestly, it was more like a doodle, like that fifth grade bullshit when you had a crush on someone. He wasn’t going to think about that, he decided, not right now.

Instead, he was going to think about getting somewhere warm for a while. If he could find somewhere quiet and warm to stay until Hoseok left the apartment, there was a possibility he could get some work done. But where would he go? He needed a place to joggle his mind loose from – he wanted to gag just thinking about it again – Youngjae and all of the nonsense at home. These past few weeks had been ridiculous.

Suddenly, he remembered Jungkook and Taehyung’s favorite dance studio that they rented out a lot. They had a year contract with the mirrored room that was about to expire but it would do for now – luckily the group of them had all put their names down and helped pay for the cost of renting the space. Yoongi had been there several times earlier in the year, and a few times during summer, watching and sometimes joining in with various dance practices.

He wouldn’t consider himself a dancer, of course, but he wasn’t too shabby.

 

The building that housed the practice room was unlocked – thank the guy above for it being open because he didn’t have the key on him – and without thinking, Yoongi made his way inside. It was an instantaneous noise that registered with him; someone was playing the piano. Inwardly cursing about the fact he’d forgotten to check the sign in sheet before he made his way towards the studio door, Yoongi brought a hand to his chin and tapped it indecisively.

He could stay and work, sure, but would he get anything done with the piano echoing off every damn nook and cranny in this place? _Probably not._ In fact, the more he paid attention, the more the sound became less like simple noise and more like, well, actual music.

_ Curiouser and curiouser. _

Yoongi slipped the notebook inside of his jacket and wandered towards the staircase that seemed to lead up to another floor – maybe this was the instrumental level he had heard about? There were spaces for pianos and guitars and drum sets, allowing people to practice their music here, as well as dance.

As if he was guided by the melody alone, his feet took him to the furthest doorway on the left and he stuck his head around the corner to get a look at the person responsible for the noise. Beautiful noise, but _noise_.

Their back was to him but he could see a bit of their profile when they’d turn their head his way, eyes closed, seemingly lost in the music. It always amazed him when he could see that passion in person – a part of him wondered if anyone had ever been that awestruck with him when he’d perform his pieces.

Fingers flew over the keys without a second’s hesitation and the rapper knew he was must have learned at a young age. Without error, the music faded off into soft hums as the piece finished. The pianist slouched a bit on the stool and if he could guess a mood by looking at their posture, he’d almost swear they looked disappointed.

But, they had nothing to be disappointed in.

Tucking his stray hair behind his ear, he weighed the options of leaving quietly or waiting around like a fly on the wall with the possibility he may see more of their work. Genuinely interested in watching the other perform for an empty room, he hardly noticed that there was a mirrored section in front of the grand piano to where the musician could see the room behind them – thus, they could see Yoongi.

And Yoongi could _definitely_ see them.

 

“How long have you been there?”

_ Oh, god, please tell him that this was a joke. _

Yoongi gave silence.

“I said – how long have you been there?”

Yoongi’s mouth dropped open and he immediately went in to denial mode. There was no other way to be with Youngjae turned to him fully now, face all kinds of demanding and surprisingly not red yet. If any of them were blushing, it would definitely be the rapper.

“I wasn’t even – I just came in here to find – _you’re_ the one who is assuming all of this.” Smooth, Yoongi. _Real fucking smooth_.

Youngjae’s face was priceless but the rapper couldn’t even take the time to appreciate it when he was stumbling over even more of his own word vomit. 

Since when had he ever talked this much? And why the hell was it directed at the bane of his existence as of late? 

That might have been a little exaggerated, but who even cared. “I just heard a piano and it was so loud I couldn’t hear myself think. I didn’t follow you or anything. I was actually getting away from more annoying assholes at home and you just so happened to be here.”

His tone had shifted to defensive to accusatory ( _Yoongi couldn’t even tell anymore_ ) and that just wiggled under the younger’s skin. Youngjae shoved off the bench and grabbed his phone, grumbling about how he wasn’t wasting his afternoon being pissed off.

Confused, now, more than shocked, the blonde haired boy couldn’t even control himself. “It wasn’t loud as in it was annoying, but it was loud. You actually play very well.” It all spilled out, Yoongi’s eyes still glued to the piano as if he was frozen in explanation mode. Why was he explaining himself in the first place? Snapping out of it, he swiped his tongue over his mouth and stood up straight, crossing his arms over his chest, in turn, making his notebook fall from his coat.

Youngjae’s attention dropped to the fallen pad of paper and Yoongi’s quickly followed. What was even more alarming was the fact that a page was now face up and it had Youngjae's name doodled across it - full on fifth grade crush style. _Oh, no._ Reaching down, the rapper scrambled to grab it up, closing the notebook again. Tucking it under his arm this time, he swallowed hard.

_ Was it hot in here?  _

Maybe it was just his nerves.

Youngjae, who had been quiet for some time, cocked an eyebrow in a quizzical manner. “What was _that_?” He took a step or two towards the other, holding the strap of his messenger bag with both hands.

“Nothing!” Yoongi’s immediate response was alarming, causing the other to halt for a second, shrugging the thought away for the time being.

“Whatever – I’m heading out. Have fun with that _nothing_ of yours.” The dark haired boy made it to where Yoongi was standing, offering him a pointed look in passing.

A split second’s decision had the rapper reaching out a hand, catching Youngjae’s elbow the same way the other had a few days ago when he basically knocked him flat on his face. There was a comfortable quiet within the moment it took them to register the touch. Like normal, Youngjae’s cheeks lit up and Yoongi found himself actually fighting to repress a small smile.

“You never told me you played the piano.” It was obvious, beside the point. Why was he saying things like this? This was Youngjae's job.

“Well, you never exactly _asked_ , did you?”

Caught in his first real loss since they’d started this game – whatever the game was – Yoongi released his arm and nodded his head in confirmation. “Seems you’re right.”

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said that to me and, wow, I have a feeling you don’t admit it often.” This probably wasn’t the time to turn this back on Yoongi seeing as the pair was making great progress in being civil – he just panicked.

“That’s because it doesn’t happen often,” the rapper chewed it with a sigh, rolling his eyes at the other. “Just take my compliment and quit being a bother.”

Yeah – the moment had been _successfully_ ruined.

Youngjae left the studio and Yoongi behind shortly after their interaction, bracing himself for his walk home in the freezing cold. No matter how chilly he got, the spot on his arm that the other had held onto seemed to keep tingling with a certain warmth. But he’d blame that sensation on the others thick-headedness, and absolutely _not_ on the way he touched him.


	7. part six: things happen in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The whole lot of them were too busy talking to notice how bad the storm outside was getting; flurries of snowflakes had piled up as they laughed and wondered and scowled (Yoongi the only one scowling, of course) and were now sticking to the ground outside. At the last moment, Youngjae’s attention cut to the window as the electricity in the apartment was blown out.
> 
>  
> 
> Complete darkness.

He was a pianist.  


 

He was an optimist.

 

He was sociable.

 

He was annoying as hell.

 

He was someone that Yoongi could not take his mind off of.

 

It wasn’t in that total dumbstruck lovey way, either, ( _he refused to resort to such idiotic conclusions_ ) and he had so many questions itching in the back of his throat that it infuriated him. 

 

Some of them were questions for the universe; _what the fuck do you think you're doing making me exist the same time this sunshine incarnate does?  do you think this is funny? do i look like someone who enjoys this kind of cheesy drama bullshit?_

 

Some of them were for himself; _why the hell have you been missing him? when are you going to finish that piece of yours? do you know that he's caught you staring in class during every single lecture?_

 

Some of them were for Youngjae; _what's your favorite way to eat pizza? if you could sell your soul for one thing, what would it be? why the fuck are you so hard to ignore? do your parents fight a lot, too?_

 

The most common emotion as of late was bewilderment. He was beside himself over the fact that numerous more pages have become littered with Youngjae’s name and came to the conclusion he was going to dump the entire thing to start over. It now rests easily in the trash. On top of that, there was the disgustingly persistent feeling that he was alone - when had that, in the history of ever, been a problem? - but more importantly, longed for his companionship.

 

The more the idea dug into his scalp and skull like a bullet making its way to his brain, the more irritable Yoongi got at home. Poor Namjoon had gotten his throat metaphorically ripped out when he tried to wake up the blonde from his cat nap ( _because this nap in particular, he was not thinking about dark hair and crinkled eyes and rosy cheeks._ )

 

And hey - he could think casually about dark hair, crinkled eyes, and rosy cheeks anyways. There was no law against it. It meant nothing, he'd tell himself, just a natural response from his subconscious.

 

. . . but then those crinkled eyes were always looking right at  him and there would be a distant voice calling  his name or so he thought. There wasn't much attention given to anything but the other’s face and why it was so utterly --

 

 

“Yoongi-ah,” this voice was not the one he listened to. It spoke again, louder this time. “Yoongi hyung, wake up.”

 

_ Jimin. _

 

The rapper’s eyes fluttered open to his younger roommate and he immediately felt the hazy, sleep ridden smile fade from his features into something akin to a grimace. Fuck, he'd fallen asleep again. And he'd dreamed of Youngjae.  Again.

 

“Yeah?” His voice croaks from the layers of misuse under exhaustion and he rubs the knuckles of his right hand aimlessly against his eyeball.  As if he could wipe away the sleep so easy. “What's the--” he's cut off as his attention jerks to the crowd behind his younger friend.

 

_Here lies Min Yoongi_ , he can read his tombstone now.

 

Namjoon was standing impossibly close to Jackson; the pair of them were crowded by six other faces, three of which were unfamiliar to him. It must have been Jackson’s other friends they hadn’t met yet - Mark, Yugyeom, and BamBam. And like the universe itself was out to get him - Choi Youngjae stood near BamBam with a pair of doe eyes locked on Yoongi.

 

“I tried to wake you earlier, Yoongi, but you were talking to--” A quick scalding stare from the newly woken sent shivers up Jimin’s spine as he shrugged away that train of thought. “Sleep talking, you know, mumbling. I couldn't understand a word you said.“

 

From Youngjae’s perspective, he was ready for the evening to be over with. The thought of heading back to the loft to sleep in his own bed was a nice one, a thought he clung to when faced with the likes of _Suga_ , bedhead frayed atop his head and a tiny drop of drool resting in the corner of his mouth and all. Things, in the past few weeks, had been bumpy to say the least. There was the meeting, the cafe incident, the nurse incident, and most recently the piano incident. Each and every time they came together again, it was as if a part of the silver lining he looked for got dimmer.

 

Yoongi could use a few lessons in smiling.

 

He could also get a handle on his sleeping habits, but that was a lecture for another time.

 

Too busy finding a spot not by Yoongi to sit, he paid no mind to why any of it bothered him in the first place. Namjoon and Jackson may have some kind of something going on, but it wasn’t like Youngjae had to get along with the other friends ( _the blonde one, in particular, because the others seemed super nice._ ) And despite BamBam’s incessant assurance that the other was doing it to flirt with him like some schoolyard crush, he had no mind to indulge the other any more.

 

It was all a front, though, because the spot the other touched had tingled the rest of the night after he left the practice studio. And no matter how vehemently he denied seeing his name on the other’s notebook, it only paired up with the memory of him saying his name in his sleep at the school cafe. Time after time, he got his hopes up that there may be some kind of -- oh, he was silly, alright -- connection between them. He’d thought if he could get him to open up a little, maybe they could become friends. What had happened, though, was the complete opposite.

 

He wouldn’t call them enemies but Yoongi sure knew how to push his buttons. 

 

 

Every. 

 

Last. 

 

One.

 

 

His hands were folded on top of his lap in the respectable style that he wore when visiting people, because at home he was undignified to the extreme, eyes drifting from face to face and ultimately landing on Jackson.  It was no shock that he’d taken a seat near Namjoon, whose hand was closed around his knee, body leaned forward as he was telling Yugyeom and Mark about some kind of new movie coming out that they should all go and see. A tiny spark lit up within his own chest watching the other smile, noticing how his hand would always hover close to Namjoon’s but not take the chance.

 

Youngjae thought of that often; romance, it was a normal but almost far-away concept. 

 

_He was young_ , his mother had told him on the phone, and he was _handsome_. She had told him about how life was meant to be lived while young - explained to him how she had thought his father was the most obnoxious person on the planet until he took her to dinner and told her she was the first woman he’d ever loved. Strange, how it goes, since Yoongi  WAS the most obnoxious person on the planet but he couldn’t see the other having a strand of love in him.

 

 

If he loved anything, he loved _sleep_.

 

Too busy off in a far-away world that was full to the brim with nagging Yoongi voices and work he needed to be doing, Youngjae didn’t seem to care or notice that the blonde had moved to sit right next to him on the loveseat; he’d changed seats with JB, who looked so stiff standing that he felt bad and let him take his own. Plus, he could be courteous when he wanted to be.

 

The whole lot of them were too busy talking to notice how bad the storm outside was getting; flurries of snowflakes had piled up as they laughed and wondered and scowled ( _Yoongi the only one scowling, of course_ ) and were now sticking to the ground outside. At the last moment, Youngjae’s attention cut to the window as the electricity in the apartment was blown out.

 

_** Complete darkness. ** _

 

The amount of space the window light allowed in was hindered by the panels on the outside of the building, and even then, it did not light up past the edge of the furthest sofa from Youngjae ( _and now, Yoongi_ ) which left him in pitch black. Hearing the others voices pulled him from his pre occupational daydreams.

 

His hand immediately went for the person next to him without a single care to who it might have been; small little known fact about Youngjae? He wasn’t a fan of the dark. Shaky fingers landed on someone’s warm skin and he clutched to it, finding immediate comfort in the fact that they did not yank away. Instead, the hand he was holding almost seemed to open up, and then it was turning, palm against palm. It felt like all of the electricity from the apartment had been strung through his bones.

 

Slowly, with caution, Youngjae spread his fingers out to test the waters ( _but more importantly to keep himself calm, of course_ ) and the other hand did not move in response. He thought about retracting, unsure if that was _supposed_ to be a sign to move or not. As he was pulling his hand off, face flushing with slight tints of red, the other hand clasped around his fingers and they locked together, just like that.

 

Yoongi’s cheek was probably bleeding by now. He’d bit it so hard, so often, to keep from making a noise to give himself away. Here they were, he and Youngjae, amidst footsteps of the others trying to maneuver in the dark to the breaker box, and they were holding hands. They were holding hands in the dark.

 

Benefit of the doubt - Youngjae probably thought it was one of his friends. He assumed he’d rather hold on to a scorching piece of metal than seek comfort with Yoongi’s hand. The blonde didn’t know how to handle it at first - the fingers on his hand, trembling like that. He’d remembered holding his mother’s hand when she’d have her bad nights, feeling her hand shake when she cried. He’d always held it for her until he no longer could. So he’d just held it. _Simple as that._

 

There didn’t need to be a reason for it, right?

 

 

Around them, a noise clattered, and someone was swearing while opening up some kind of mechanism. Yoongi assumed it was Namjoon who’d found the breaker on his own -- within two or three switches of the button, the room whirred to life again.

 

Youngjae’s eyes had been locked on the darkness but in the direction where his hand was intertwined with someone else’s. Yoongi’s had been turned in the same direction. With the electricity back on, nothing seemed to change -- their hands were still locked together. A moment or two passed in complete distance from the rest of them, laughing about who had been the most scared and who had fallen over earlier, and the two joined by the hands finally made the move to look up. When those doe eyes caught his own, Yoongi’s cheeks were on absolute fire; he just hoped the color was not matching. Youngjae’s, on the other hand, were as red as a cherry and he was untangling his fingers as quickly and easily as he could - not wanting to cause a scene for the others to lose their mind over.

 

Once free from the warmth of the other’s hand, Youngjae pulled his jacket collar up higher and ducked his head, yanking his phone out to busy himself before anyone paid him too close attention.

 

“Well, that was a night ruiner.” Namjoon’s voice cut the silence of Yoongi’s world and he glanced over to his friend, cracking a small smile to appear as if he’d been listening the whole time. The rest of the others took their quick chance to introduce themselves to Jimin and then to Yoongi, who stood up from his seat on the couch to be a bit more involved.

 

It was a blessing to get his mind off what just happened - and the fact that he was probably doomed to terrifyingly numerous more dreams of the other.

 

Deciding that they were all going to call it a night, Mark had to almost swat Youngjae across the back of the head before he was back in reality. With a stumbled and muffled excuse that he was reading an article, he said his peace with Namjoon and Jimin before turning his eyes back on Yoongi. The smile that greeted him was unnerving but not necessarily unwelcome. Waving instead of speaking, since he wasn’t sure he could manage that, he ducked his head and was off after his friends, complaining about how they couldn’t _‘just leave him here.’_

 

 

When the quiet fell back upon their apartment, Jimin’s brow raised.

 

“What’d you do to him?”

 

Yoongi’s expression shifted like a switch, his scowl coming back. “What makes you say I did something with him? You don’t even _know_.”

“For starters,” Jimin prompted, “I asked what did you do _to_ him, but now I’m even more certain that something happened. Don’t make me tell Hoseok, Yoongi. You know he--”

He was no runner, of course, but Yoongi took off after the younger, ignoring his maniacal laughter through the apartment. 

The blonde had more important things on his mind -- like the fact that he didn't mind holding Youngjae's hand, or the fact that he was kind of actually missing that contact since the moment their fingers untangled, but most importantly: the fact that he was absolutely  losing his mind.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry it has taken me so long to update!  
> i love you guys and oh my goodness thank you for the sweet comments.  
> if more people ship them because of me, i am doing my work well.  
> i hope to write more oneshots in the future for other groups as well, so, keep your eyes peeled.  
> thank you for being with me this far.  
> i hope you enjoy these two!


	8. part seven: the designated caregivers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two of them, Mark and Yoongi, each holding onto a drunken boy, stopped talking altogether. Mark relaxed quickly, though, and nodded his head.
> 
> “You had better go with him and make sure he gets home safe. Jaebum would kill us if he wasn't taken care of. I trust you though.” A sympathetic look was given to him as he ruffled Jackson’s hair for a second, telling him to behave although they all knew he wouldn’t.
> 
> Once it was down to the drunk couple and the two sober designated caregivers, the tension built back up slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FATHER JISOOS FORGIVE ME FOR IT TOOK ME TOO LONG TO FINISH THIS CHAPTER.  
> Thank you to all of you who still read and care about updates. HONESTLY.  
> I love you all and hope I do not disappoint you.
> 
> On the plus side, this chapter is is like 2.5x longer than my other chapters.
> 
> AND KEEP YOUR EYES PEELED FOR CUTE.  
> It may happen at any given moment.

The recent snow storms left life outside abysmal for the most part. Yoongi, not one to be out and about in the first place, decided he was best left indoors over the holiday break. That was his goal, at least. Being friends with some of the most annoyingly social people had its downsides - the very fact that they were social being one of them. It meant that there was not one week of his life that he wasn't nagged or dragged to a social event he didn't want to be at.

 **Example A:** _the New Years party_.

What was so special about it, anyway? A bunch of girls dancing, a bunch of guys drinking, and the eventual hook-ups that both parties shame themselves over come morning. The blonde was much more interested in sleeping through the fireworks with his headphones in then mingling with intoxicated strangers.

 _No_ , however, was not a recognized word in either Taehyung or Namjoon’s vocabulary - especially when it involved dancing for the youngest two of their friend group and the chance for Namjoon to swap spit with Jackson in the bathroom stalls.

He could hear it now; ‘We were just drunk and fooling around! Why would friends do that?’ And he was right. Friends wouldn’t do that. But people in love would. Especially people in love who had been keeping their dates a “secret” for . . . how many months now? The incriminating evidence, however, would be that neither of them were _ACTUALLY_ drunk at the time of the offense.

It was silly, though, to try and keep things private. With friends like they had, secrets were short-lived and almost impossible to keep under wraps. If it wasn’t Hoseok snatching journals or phones, it was Jimin and his puppy dog eyes that lulled the word vomit straight from your heart or the cloudy corners of your mind. It was to his best efforts that he kept a very boring life -- on the outside, that was. He couldn’t actually risk being interesting again for his sanity’s sake. Hoseok almost caught wind of his secret once and Yoongi didn’t exactly wish for him to try again.

So maybe he kind of thought about Youngjae a lot more than he should think about anything other than composing or sleep or school. He thought about him more than the things that should actually make sense for him to think about frequently. There was that quiet residual blush that seemed to stain Youngjae’s cheeks, the way his staggered breaths had calmed considerably the moment their hands touched during the blackout in the apartment. Yoongi thought about the look on the younger’s face as they’d parted ways that day - not a peep or sight of him since.

He could have sworn one day, and what seemed a long time ago, he half-assed a sarcastic prayer to whoever would listen to make it that this very circumstance would occur. He had been tired of seeing the other’s stupid smiles on campus, hearing his chortling voice corridors away and just knowing what kind of look he had on his face based on tone alone. If there could have been just one day that he didn’t have to be aware of his existence, it would be a blessing.

It seemed that everything had come back to bite him in the ass.

 

 

 

The music’s bass threatened to break the concrete outside the building. Namjoon was fixing his glasses up against his nose when a familiar body nearly toppled him over, Yoongi hardly lifting his head to see the pair stumble back against the textured wall. Jackson had been waiting for them for over fifteen minutes - _how tragic!_ \- and the party had just now gotten started with their arrival.

“You coming?” Jimin’s elbow in his arm was a wake-up call that Yoongi never asked for. “It's cold out here. You can't just camp outside looking like that.”

His shoulders were half exposed with an oversized long-sleeved shirt, a scarf wrapped haphazardly around his neck and doubled up to keep him warm. Yoongi clicked his tongue in response but Jimin was already half inside the club, the click of the door barely audible over the harsh sounds coming from inside. It looked like he was left out in the cold after all. Although, in Jimin’s defense, Yoongi was never the type to suffer for _too_ long if he could help it.

Defeat. The blonde was cold. With his head down, Yoongi slipped inside the building unnoticed and made his way towards the bar.

Youngjae shook the water from his hands once or twice before grabbing a paper towel from the machine and drying them off properly. Leaning against one of the sinks, Yugyeom looked interested in the beds of his fingernails.

“You think Jackson is going to end up making out with Namjoon tonight?”

A laugh left Youngjae before he knew what he was doing, eyes darting to the younger as he moved to throw his trash away.

“I don't know, probably? He seemed really excited to see him tonight. I wonder if he'll show up.” Motioning towards the exit, the darker haired one sighed. “And if he does, that means he is probably going to bring the rest of them, too.”

Yugyeom’s face went unchanged with the assumption, the music blaring to life as the pair of them ventured back into the crowd of dancers.

Naturally, Yugyeom was more comfortable out in the crowds. He could hold his own with dancers and the ladies, so Youngjae didn't mind letting him leave. He didn’t so much mind not having company - he was used to keeping to himself at scenes like this. The other guys were more the party type, always hollering and dancing, and overall just being better at crowded places. It meant that Youngjae would stick to the sidelines and pretend to be absorbed in a game on his mobile.

But first, a drink to loosen him up sounded pretty good.

Skirting his eyes around for a not-so-crowded section of the bar, Youngjae decided he could squeeze in near the corner, an open seat welcoming him easy. There was a girl on his right who seemed interested in a man whose hand was dipping dangerously low down her back and a guy on the left who seemed to be hunched over the bar. The latter seemed to be uninterested in conversation and that eased his mind a little more.

Climbing over the bar stool, Youngjae rested the palms of his hand on the cool marble surface. The man on the left had a few fingers dug into his temples, his blonde hair purposely unkempt and falling across his one hand as he swirled his drink with the other.

Youngjae caught one of the bartender’s attention and ordered something lightweight - a hard lemonade. Maybe while enjoying it, he could forget about the winter weather outside. As he swiveled on his chair, he noticed the girl who had been next to him previously was now being lead out towards the dance floor.

A part of him wanted to be out there, too.

Not too long after he ordered his drink, there was a cold glass pressing against his arm. Turning back to the counter, he propped his feet up on the bars of the chair and brought the drink closer to his mouth. The taste was smooth and unlike the bite of winter outside the booming building, it helped warm him up from the inside out.

He'd never been drunk in his life, but tonight he had half a mind to try it out for a change.

Yoongi’s drink was bitter and the subtle burn of the cinnamon on his throat was becoming less and less noticeable as he stirred his drink. He'd been paying no mind to the company around him and instead kept his head propped up on his hand, focusing on nothing but the quiet clinks of ice cubes against his glass.

This kind of peace was short-lived - Yoongi’s ears were not clogged and that voice ordering next to him was definitely Youngjae. And that fuzzy feeling in his chest was definitely not from the alcohol. Torn between saying something and getting the hell out of dodge, the rapper froze in his seat and almost forgot to breathe again.

It felt like hours passed between the time the other ordered and the time he began focusing on his beverage. Yoongi’s chest was constricted, his palms sweaty, and he wanted desperately to get some cold air. It was way too hot in the room all of a sudden. He blamed the cinnamon. Ten minutes passed by like ten hours and Yoongi could hear the noise of the straw as the other finished his drink and sucked in the last droplets of lemonade.

Maybe he'd leave, go somewhere else, and Yoongi could find a nice secluded corner to rest his head against.

Youngjae’s mind had different plans, though. Pulling free his phone, he scrolled through his notifications to see if any of them required his attention. Pulling up one of his social media apps, he browsed before closing out and repeating the same process on the next. Whenever he came to a bitter end of his kill-time, the brunette opted to pull up a game.

The rapper beside him, unannounced, wanted to make his leave without being found out. If Youngjae saw him now, wouldn't he accuse him of something? He could just picture it, their argument. They'd argued so much in the history of knowing each other that it was like second nature. Youngjae was most always right, though Yoongi would never let him know that.

As time went on, he managed to avoid eye contact with the barkeep and avoided looking to his right for any reason. Arm after arm reached over him, grabbing drink orders, but he kept his head down.

_Just like that, an hour had passed._

It was nearing midnight and fast - the crowd swelling with activity while others here and there slipped out into the night to retreat with their catches. Half lidded eyes, accustomed to being asleep by now, were feeling extra heavy. The scarf around his neck was beginning to make his neck sweat and Youngjae hadn’t budged from the seat next to him. Such his luck.

Just as he was about to flip the bird to his circumstance, his saving grace came in the oddest of ways. It came in the form of Jungkook’s hand on his shoulder and a giggly Namjoon hooked around the youngest’s neck. Yoongi turned when Jungkook grabbed onto him, leaving his drink behind to settle his attention on his friends.

“We've got a little _problem_.”

From the looks of it, Namjoon had been having a little too much fun on his little date with Jackson and had gotten a bit too tipsy.

Raising a brow, the rapper leaned forwards on his seat and patted Namjoon’s cheek with equal parts affection and contempt. The other was smiling and going on about how much fun he was having, his hands tearing at Jungkook’s shirt as if he was trying to undress him. It was funny to Namjoon but completely embarrassing to Jungkook who was being eyed by a pretty girl who looked about Yoongi’s age. _Guess the youngster had game after all._

“Can you take care of him? I can't drive so I can't take him home. Plus you guys came together.” Yoongi wanted to scoff at him - such a whiny kid. “He and--”

Jungkook didn't get to finish because right on cue, Mark, nearby, was ushering a swaying Jackson right up to the same bar, but his eyes were on Youngjae instead. _Oh, no._ This was not looking good.

He needed to get out and _fast_.

Youngjae’s drink had hit the spot and he was more than inclined to order a second glass. His body seemed to vibrate with warmth, a smile lifting his cheeks up before he really had the opportunity to catch it himself. It helped ease him into the night life, the music now a tad bit less intrusive and slower, allowing for coupled bodies to press together.

It was all easier on his brain now, his eyes skating across people while watching the mirror behind the bar. The guy next to him hardly moved at all and though he was perplexed at what was wrong, he was not in the mood to try and question him.

And that's when Mark was spotted, shoving people out of the way while a wobbly Jackson held onto his arm as if it were his life raft. He wasn’t surprised, really, more impressed that the boy held out so long. Jackson wasn’t necessarily a drinker, you see, but when he drank it seemed he had no filter for when enough was more than enough. And though he was never rowdy and impossible to control, he was a mouthy one and refused to stay in bed.

Already dreading the night to come, Youngjae’s attention was yanked to a familiar voice. Namjoon?

“I'm really fine, y’see.” He almost hiccuped. “Me an’ Jackson were just playin’ a game ‘n I lost.”

Yoongi bit his tongue and hopped off the bar stool, avoiding Mark who was now next to them, negotiating with the man he hadn’t wanted to see ( _who was he fooling?_ ) about what to do with their friend. In the dark of the night, it was easy for them not to immediately notice. The lights swerved this way and that and when it wasn't glowing nearby, faces were almost impossible to see.

That luck ran out, however, when Namjoon tossed his head to find Jackson. The taller of them nearly shoved Jungkook towards the bar as he stumbled to grab ahold of the guy he had been playing with, tugging him by his arm with a storm of laughter rising up in his chest.

“Namjoon, what the f--”

Jungkook was swearing under his breath while Yoongi was swearing out loud. Without any more hesitance in him, he grabbed onto Namjoon’s ear and yanked hard, almost hissing as he tried to corral his friend.

“Ow ‘Gi-- you’re _hurting_ me.”

“ _Good_.” It was all he could bite out for now, pulling the younger to him and coincidentally Jackson too. “You’re being ridiculous. I have a right to hurt you.”

The look on Youngjae’s face was indescribable. Hurt, maybe? Betrayal? Shock? There were many emotions flashing through his eyes but he paid no attention to them - instead he focused on his mouth which was almost threatening to form into a smile. At the last second, it broke and became a thin line.

Oh, he wasn’t too happy.

Mark spoke up first.

“Both of them started drinking over in the booths - they were playing some kind of shot game and, as you can see,” his hands outlined the mess at Yoongi’s fingertips for exaggeration, “it didn't turn out too well.”

If he wasn’t so wound up from Youngjae and Namjoon, he'd of laughed. Not because it was funny, but because it was ridiculously his bad luck to get stuck with drunken idiots at the party he was dragged into. Life had a funny way of treating him.

Youngjae’s body was tense and his knuckles were white as his fists pressed into his knees. He was still sat up on the stool, still fixed on the man - Yoongi - who was now making arrangements with Mark on how they would get the boys home. His mouth was numb on the inside, lips pulled so taut he was worried they'd stay numb after he released his hold on them. He couldn’t quite piece together what was going on yet all he knew was that his hand ( _the one that Yoongi had held onto_ ) was itching to find company again.

Had he come to terms with what he felt?

Not likely. He still wanted to fight himself over every little spark of warmth he felt even when the other was rolling his eyes at him or arguing with him. The younger wanted to write it off as anything but a crush but the more he avoided the other completely, well, the more his fondness for him grew.

At this rate, he'd take a stink eye from Yoongi over no eye contact at all. But it seemed that wasn't the case. He could pinpoint the small glances his way, the way the older would casually look to him as if he was expecting Youngjae to chime in at any time.

“I'll come with you.”

The two of them, Mark and Yoongi, each holding onto a drunken boy, stopped talking altogether. Mark relaxed quickly, though, and nodded his head.

“You had better go with him and make sure he gets home safe. Jaebum would kill us if he wasn't taken care of. I trust you though.” A sympathetic look was given to him as he ruffled Jackson’s hair for a second, telling him to behave although they all knew he wouldn’t.

Once it was down to the drunk couple and the two sober designated caregivers, the tension built back up slowly.

“Well do you - how about you - Jackson goes with you and we'll get them in the car.” It came out like a question on Yoongi’s end but he wasted no time in hurrying the mess of his friend towards the exit.

Jackson settled against Youngjae’s side as he had with Mark and began mumbling on about how he wanted to touch Namjoon’s hair a lot, in so many words, before he started in on how Youngjae was such a good friend and a good guy.

At least _someone_ here thought so.

 

 

 

**_The plans had changed from the party._ **

Not _voluntarily_ , but by force.

A certain someone had left his house key IN the house and had failed to grab Mark’s before they left toting two sacks of giggling messes in the backseat of Namjoon’s car. That certain someone also swore that when he told Yoongi about the less than ideal predicament he was in, the other smiled.

So it was to the apartment they went, in the end, and trying to keep two rambunctious adults quiet ( _to not wake the neighbors_ ) as they walked up the steps was more than horrifying. It was a great idea in an overly tipsy Namjoon mind to start singing songs off key which left Jackson a hysterical laughing mess.

Thankfully Yoongi unlocked the door just in time for the chorus and Youngjae helped shove the idiots over the threshold and away from the public eye.

“Go sit down, Joon, I'm going to get you some water.” His tone was both commanding and affectionate, though the look on his face definitely showed none of the latter. He looked like a stressed out mom, wrinkled forehead and tucked in eyebrows.

Namjoon obliged after a moment of yanking on Yoongi’s scarf and Youngjae took his seat next to Jackson, whose legs were visibly jerking with the desire to get up and go - to be anywhere but sitting there. The brunette knew it'd be hell to get him to stay down for bed from experience and he didn't even have Yugyeom there to help sit on him to keep him down.

It would make for an interesting story in the end, he supposed.

Yoongi’s footsteps caught his attention and he turned to watch the older waterfall something non-alcoholic into his friends mouth. He heard Namjoon mumble something but couldn't quite catch it, while Jackson’s laughter started to bubble back up.

Once Namjoon had taken his drink, Yoongi tossed a cold bottle of water Youngjae’s way and he caught it with ease.

“Alright! So, you two are going to go to bed. Since you've decided to spend half the night drinking, you can spend the rest of it sleeping. Deal?” The laughter that answered him nearly caused Youngjae to giggle as well. He was trying to handle two children by this point.

“I'm going to get you guys a puke bucket for when your bad decisions start to come back up and - Joon, drink the water.”

Youngjae coaxed Jackson for a drink easier than expected and got up to start guiding him to one of the bedrooms, a small smile lifting his cheeks up.

“Are there two beds? Which room would you rather us stay in?” Youngjae’s sudden question after mostly being silent for the last fifteen minutes caught the blonde off guard. “I can stay with Jackson and make sure he doesn't make a mess.”

Scratching at the back of his neck, Yoongi clicked his tongue and shrugged, offering a little smile of his own.

“I think they would do better keeping each other company,” he started, glancing between the two of them, “they'll probably do better together back there than with us. They obviously don't mind being alone with one another.”

It was at that moment that Youngjae’s cheeks caught fire, the familiar burning feeling of his face causing him to turn away to Jackson. He could pretend to be busy - he was a decent actor.

“Come on, Jackson.” Tucking his arm under the other’s, he helped haul him up as Yoongi ushered Namjoon towards the hallway and to the left, where he assumed the bedroom was. “We're going to put you to bed.”

Namjoon’s laughter broke this time, his delighted chanting starting up about he and Jackson getting to sleep together making their caretakers both laugh. They would be mortified in the morning when all of this came back to them, that was certain.

The whole ordeal of getting them in bed properly was easier than either of them thought. Once Jackson had climbed in next to Namjoon, they were on their sides facing each other and giggling about this and that before Yoongi and Youngjae could leave the room.

It left Youngjae with an interesting predicament - where was he going to stay? Stopping short before the end of the hallway, Youngjae ran a hand through his hair and pressed his shoulder to the wall beside him.

“Hey - uh, Yoongi?”

“Yeah?”

“Where are you going to sleep?”

The blonde, who had just settled down on the couch with his feet propped up on the table, cocked a brow. As if it were obvious and common knowledge, his response was curt.

“Right here.”

Youngjae blinked several times, giving him the chance to continue; he received no further answer.

“And where am I going to sleep?”

Yoongi flashed him a knowing look before motioning to the same hallway Youngjae was standing in.

“In my bed.”

 

 

 

The other had showed him where the room was and which bed was his - he shared with Jimin, of course - and he had even left him a pair of sweatpants out. But the pants, however, came without instructions. There was no ‘if you want to change’ as he laid out the jogging bottoms, instead it was as if he was requesting him to.

“I'm fine, really.”

Yoongi had hardly acknowledged his passive response and instead closed the drawer with an assured nod of his head.

Youngjae’s eyes scanned the bed he was going to be sleeping in and for MANY reasons, he was unsure to even touch it. The bed was cleanly made up and the bedside table was neatly organized, a simple lamp and alarm clock with a phone charging dock set up.

Taking a hold of one corner of the blanket, he peeled it back to give him enough room. Yoongi was lingering by the doorway, nearly smirking at the other.

“It's not _dirty_ , you know. Just get in bed.”

Youngjae flashed him a warning glare that Yoongi hardly took seriously and pushed the blankets out of the way with a new vigor, out of spite for the other.

“It's not my bed and not my apartment you can't expect people to just do things like sleep in a stranger's bed comfortably.” He sat on the bed first, noticing how soft it was compared to his own - well, he wouldn't enjoy it any more than he had to. “Unless you're used to strangers being over and in your bed, you know. I don't know your life.”

Yoongi’s laugh was unexpected and frankly quite alarming.

“So we're _strangers_ now? You hold my hand because you got scared of the dark and then avoid me - and now, we're strangers?” He could have snorted, but he held back. “I won’t accept that. And for your information, nobody has ever slept in my bed. Not even any of the guys.”

A newfound warmth spread across his cheeks and down, his eyes dropping to his lap.

“I'm going to take out the trash real quick. If Jin were to come home and find out it's still there, he'd behead me. Just yell if you need anything else.”

Before Youngjae could defend himself for earlier, the other was left alone, staring at the lone pair of grey sweats folded neatly on the dresser.

 

 

 

Yoongi locked the door behind him as he returned for the night, knowing good and well Jimin and Jin had their own keys and probably wouldn’t be coming home until morning regardless.

The house was quiet, to his surprise, and no sounds of rambunctious drunk adults could be heard behind the bedroom door they were in. Peeking his head in anyways, to make sure they hadn't puked on the floor, Yoongi wasn’t exactly surprised by the sight of Jackson propped up on Namjoon’s chest, shirts abandoned for sleep and in a crumpled heap at the end of the bed.

Even in their drunken slumber, the lovebirds still looked kind of _cute_.

Before he could go get comfortable on the couch, a thought popped up. In his lapse earlier, Yoongi had forgotten to grab his charging cable for his phone. The battery was teetering on only 10% and if he needed it, it probably wouldn't last long.

Listening for a moment at the opposite room’s door, Yoongi couldn’t hear anything. _Was he already asleep?_ Taking a slow breath, he turned the knob and opened just enough to catch a glimpse inside. Shocked, he pushed the door the rest of the way open and looked around; Youngjae wasn’t in the bed.

Venturing further into the room, Yoongi reached for his charging cable and searched for any signs of Youngjae’s belongings - a phone maybe? Just as he was lifting up the covers to check, there was an audible gasp behind him.

Turning around abruptly, letting his blankets fly from his hand, he was greeted with an equally shocked face. Youngjae’s eyes were darting everywhere but Yoongi’s, leaving the other to let his own drop.

In the brunette’s hands were a pair of jeans.

They were the jeans he had been wearing.

Yoongi’s chest constricted as he looked down further to see his favorite pair of sweats hanging low on the other’s waist. The drawstrings were undone, dangling down his thighs, bare feet with toes slightly curled shifting nervously on the carpeted floor.

Youngjae hid his face with the bundle of his jeans and the way his voice shuddered out left Yoongi smiling.

“Y-you left them out on the dresser. I figured you - jeans aren't exactly comfortable sleepwear. I can take them off if you--”

Yoongi shook his head quickly at that and wrapped the USB cable around his fingers, trying to distract himself from staring too much.

“No, no. You keep them on. It's what I got them out for, after all.” Granted, he could have told him such and bypassed all the awkward looks but he was too cryptic for that kind of straightforward affection. ~~_Or so he told himself, at least._~~

There was something strangely satisfying about Youngjae draped in his clothes, sleeping in his bed. He couldn’t help but steal a glance or two while the other took a few steps, leaving his jeans where the sweats had once rested.

“Thanks, Yoongi.”

Youngjae ran a hand through his hair and the movement hiked up the white graphic tee he'd been wearing; Yoongi’s eyes caught the sight of his bare skin and the first intrusive thought in his mind was that it was not nearly enough for his taste.

“Don't mention it. I'll be heading out now. To the couch. Just--” The blonde shifted his weight, taking a step or two closer to Youngjae.

“Yell if I need anything?” His voice was softer now, more sincere, eyes finally lifted up to meet Yoongi’s with confidence that they never seemed to lack.

“That.”

The pair were shoulder to shoulder.

Youngjae’s fingers curled tight enough to white his knuckles, a blush staining his cheeks and part of his chest. The goose bumps on his arms were driving him wild and all it took was one small brush of Yoongi’s hand against his to warrant a shiver.

With a breathless laugh, one that Yoongi had never done in his life, his hand shifted to press along Youngjae’s more certainly, his fingers softly brushing here and there. It took a couple of seconds before the younger realized what was happening and when he did, he opened the spaces between his fingers and laced them with the other’s.

“Your palms are sweaty.” Yoongi whispered, squeezing his hand regardless; that wasn't enough to make him want to let go.

Youngjae’s response was left in his actions.

Turning better towards the other, he leaned in closer, eyes dropping to his mouth and neck in fear that if he met his eyes instead, the embrace would be rejected. Yoongi, unsure of what exactly was happening, flicked his tongue out over his mouth and leaned his head downward, closer to the other.

The air between them was thick, warm, and Youngjae was absolutely disgusted with how much his palm was sweating while still being gripped by the older. It took a moment of gathering strength, but Yoongi and Youngjae both closed the distance, foreheads pressing together first, then their noses.

He couldn’t tell if it was his gasp or not, in response to the contact, but Youngjae didn't care. Fingers curled tighter, trying to give him a sign. Seconds felt like hours and Youngjae’s nose brushed against Yoongi’s, about to pull away. Maybe he'd been reading the signs all wrong?

“Just kiss me already.”

It sounded _much_ better in the movies, in Yoongi’s defense.

“Why do I have to kiss y--mmph--”

In as long as it had taken for Youngjae to protest, the blonde had released his hold on the younger’s hand and instead resorted to grabbing Youngjae’s face - arguably way softer than what the brunette would have ever imagined, not that he had imagined this too often - to crash their mouths together. It wasn’t like a movie, after all. Sparks didn't fly and he didn't all of a sudden want to sing and dance. The kiss was long lasting, though, deep for all the trouble they'd put each other through, and it lit a fire in Youngjae’s toes that spread throughout his entire body.

It wasn’t his first kiss, but it was the first kiss he’d ever had that left his knees like jelly.

Fingers curled tight against Yoongi’s shirt, both for balance and comfort, and he pulled him in instinctively closer until their chests were touching, only breaking apart the kiss to take gasping breaths against each other’s mouth. He couldn’t recall when it was that he had shut his eyes but now that they were open, Yoongi’s were staring into them with a look Youngjae couldn’t ever imagine coming from the other in a lifetime.

Yoongi shifted and his fingers fell to trace against the base of the younger’s neck before he pulled out of the grasp, a warm grin rested on his face.

“Took you long enough,” Youngjae was muttering, though a smile as bright as ever was right underneath leaving his complaints less than effective.

“You complain too much.”

Yoongi’s USB cable had been dropped long ago, the worries about his phone or the drunk idiots in the other room in the distant past. _But where did this leave them?_ Deciding not to worry about it too much tonight, Yoongi bent over to grab the cable and slung it around his arm, eyes resting on Youngjae’s face, his reddened cheeks creeping back with a vengeance.

Yoongi leaned in once more and bumped their noses together, feeling a lot more brave than he had in a long time with the other. Both of their eyes closed, soft breaths the only noise between them - it certainly was a welcome from the constant griping - until Yoongi’s lips brushed up to leave a soft kiss against the bridge of Youngjae’s nose.

“Get some sleep, stranger.”

“You too, stranger.”

The two of them shared one last look before Yoongi slipped out the door and retired to his designated spot on the couch, his own face on fire with no desire to cool it off.

Youngjae crawled into the bed he was offered for the night and his last thought before pulling the covers up and falling asleep was how many _more_ nights he might spend in this bed from this moment on - how many of those nights would be spent alone until Yoongi would join him, too.


End file.
